In the fall of '77, my wife Beth and I went on a wilderness trip in the Quetico of Canada with Joe and his soon-to-be wife Joni. They literally met the day we began the trip and the rest is history as they say. But that's entirely another story.

   The trip itself was a week long total wilderness experience. Canoes only. You had to be able to carry everything at once including food, clothing, supplies, and your canoe. We saw zero human beings after the first day. We had some great adventures.

   One eveing Joe and I decided to fish. We took the canoe out and the water was so still I can still remember it to this day. It seemed like one stroke of the paddle and the canoe wanted to glide forever. Not a ripple on the water. And it was QUIET. Joe and I talked about how peaceful it was and how lucky we were to be there and have that experience.

   After a good amount of time fishing we noticed some lights flashing and it took us a while to realize it was the girls frantically waving the flashlights at us from the shore. What the heck was that all about? After a bit of squinting we could see that they were pointing at us. Why would they be pointing at us? We finally figured out that they were pointing past us. When we turned around we saw why they were so freaked out. A massive line of thunderstorms was just on the horizon and headed our way. Hmmmmm.... thunderstorms? aluminum canoe? Not a good combination. We began frantically paddling and made it back to shore just in time for the rain to begin. 

   Now a well-pitched vinyl tent is wonderful for keeping you dry and out of the wind but it's not very reassuring in the middle of a severe Canadian thunderstorm amidst a never ending forest of 100 foot trees. As the wind howled and the lightning popped all around us we all were a bit nervous. Joni was scared and Beth was mentally writing a will leaving things to our cats. Joe, trying to be the calming influence, said something to the effect of "Ladies, relax. What would be the odds of one particular bolt of lightning striking this one particular spot of ground at exactly the one time out of entire lives that we would be here?"  I could tell he thought that was going to calm everyone down. That was until Joni said, "Yeah, but what if one of those bolts of lightning or the wind makes one of those trees come down on our tent?" I can still remember the look on his face today. His lips never moved but his face said "Holy s*%t! I never thought of that!  We were fine and laughed about it for many years.

   Later in the trip we came upon a beautiful spot (one of many) for relaxing and there was a small rocky cliff which just begged you to take your clothes off and jump in the water. The girls protested that the water was going to be too cold. Joe decided to prove to them that it wasn't. He proudly announced at the top of the rocks "Watch. I'm goin' in. It can't be that cold!" He jumped in and the instant he came back to the surface of the water he was gasping, shivering, and turning blue (only a slight exxageration). I have never seen anybody exit a body of water as fast as he did that day. He continued to shiver for quite a while even being in the sun. Being only slighty sarcastic, one of us (maybe more) asked him, "Hey Joe, 'zat water cold?"  We all laughed then and I still smile when I think about it.

   Beth and I still look back at that week in the wilderness as one of our best experiences ever and Joe was a big part of that. Hiking, laughing, sharing the experience, and sometimes just kicking back, starin' at the moon and listening to the wolves.  It was a great time. Thanks for the memories, Joe.